


The Waters Are Rising

by Lina (lookslikelove)



Category: Neil Gaiman - A Study in Emerald
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008, recipient:Puel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookslikelove/pseuds/Lina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things were not always this way of that we can assure you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waters Are Rising

  


## The Waters Are Rising

  
Fandom: [Neil Gaiman - A Study in Emerald](http://yuletidetreasure.org/get_fandom_quicksearch.cgi?Fandom=Neil%20Gaiman%20-%20A%20Study%20in%20Emerald)  
Written for: Puel in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge  
by [Lina](http://yuletidetreasure.org/cgi-bin/contact.cgi?filename=73/thewaters)  


Things were not always this way of that we can assure you.

How they once were and how we could have stopped them then, now those are things that we can only guess at.

In the beginning they came, rising up from the sea, and we welcomed them like foolish lambs to the slaughter. 'We can save you' they told us, in their voices that were both booming and hushed in one moment. 'We can bring you peace and love.'

The gathered crowd had cheered, gone down on bended knee and prayed, thanking for them for bestowing their gloriousness upon us all. 'We were lost,' the people cried, weeping with joy and awe. 'We were waiting to be saved.'

This was how the world as we know was born. In tears of those who stood on those rocky cliffs, who opened their arms and hearts and closed their eyes to the truth of what they were welcoming. Of the damage they were setting upon us all.

Not all of those watching were fools.

Some stood further away, watching from windows and whispering curses to those creatures from the deep. Some promised themselves that they would stand strong against this coming tyranny, to fight the darkness that had come up from the sea, to pass this promise to their sons and daughters and send the Old Ones back. These men and women lived their quiet lives, hiding and waiting, telling tales and teaching their young of the quest that they were now on. A need to save humanity, to wash those creatures from the land and send them running for the sea where they would sleep forevermore.

This was how the story came to my ears.

Brought up on footlights and whispers, I knew from the instant that my mother whispered the tale of those _monsters_ rising from the sea that I was being set upon a mission. It was a tale that had been passed from mother to son, from father to daughter, ever since my first ancestors stood waiting in the shadows of the trees near that cliff. 'Wash them back to the sea,' they had promised themselves, crossing their hearts and keeping their eyes wide open. 'Break us all free.'

We are not noble people, of that we can assure you. We have never been the rulers of men, the learned and the highly praised. I am one of just another number of those who can hide just as easily as he can stand out, and for that I am valuable. For that I shall be infamous.

This is not the sort of act that one can commit by themselves. They shall be crimes of passion, done with planning, forethought and only a hint of malice. It is hard to hate the truth, to know that you are wise and all others are foolish for trusting in those that should never have been trusted. An act of daring, a noble venture and not one that can be done in solitude.  
It is also not the sort of act that can be broadly advertised.

Tonight was the night that my months of research came to full pay out, that after carefully digging, searching through all the files and corners of the world I had finally come upon one who saw things as they ought to be seen. It was an old bid, a half-trick learned from years of plying wallets and purses off ladies and gentlemen who were too foolish to see what I really was until after the dust had settled. I had picked my mark, studied his habits, learned his friends, and knew his vices. He was perfect for the task, the ultimate ally, and swaying him would be the hardest part of all.

Seated in a booth I observe the crowd, studying the faces and the manners of those who are there to eat and drink, watching them as they come and go. All of them are lost in their own little worlds, interacting, reacting and completely useless. Idly, I turn the page of my newspaper, folding it in half, but not reading it. No, I'm in the market for news that isn't printed on the page.

There is a flurry at the door and crowd of men tramp, laughing and talking hurriedly as they stamp snow off of their shoes. All carrying matching black cases, all with similar expressions and ways about them it is easy to tell what they are if you know what to look for.

Surgeons.

Observing them for a moment longer, I scan the crowd to mark my prey. A man, lagging behind the rest, walking with more precision, more effort and a careful look downward confirms the reason why. A limp. I know from my investigations that this is the surgeon that I have been craving a word with.

Folding the paper once more, I adjust my hat before standing, heading towards the door while playing the part of a man on the go. The sort of man who has a family to return to, a life waiting, all of it an act, yet beautifully executed. Half staggering towards the door, I make an effort to half-collide with the limping surgeon, turning him towards me as I mumble an apology and look up at his face.

"John?" The word comes out like one who has just stumbled upon a long lost friend. An edge of excitement, a bit of questioning, a lot of waiting. "John! Heavens, it's been an age, let us have a drink."

He's visibly confused and opens his mouth to speak as I grab his arm and guide him towards the bar, but letting him have a word in is not part of the plan. At least not right now.

"Mary, a pint for me and a whiskey for my friend John here." Mary smiles and bobs her head, knowing all to well the types of tricks I am prone to playing. Ever the good girl, she'll put it on some other man's tab and wait for an explanation later. Poor Mary, for her sister Irene will not be getting to come aid in the baiting of this man tonight.  
Leaning against the bar I smile, my face still half shaded by my hat. "How are you John? The family?"

He stares at me, completely astounded and at a loss for words as to what to make of my behavior. "Beg pardon?" he asks, checking over his shoulder for a moment and gripping his case tighter in his hand. "I think you have confused me with someone else, sir."

A clever one, perfectly ordered and needed for the instance. I put upon an over the top laugh and clap him on the arm. "Never, John, never." Leaning in I pull out a folded bit of paper and slide it into his hand. "You and I have matters of catching up on, but that should be saved for another evening. Mary, adieu."

Departing before he has a chance to question any further to my face, I pause for a moment in an alleyway, switching my hat for another and carrying on my way. The date of the match has been set and the pieces put in motion.

An hour later and I am seemingly engaged with a conversation with a cabbie outside of a theatre a quarter of a mile from where I first encountered the good doctor. Another companion, Lawrence has always been willing to aid in the futhering of some of my endeavors.

I can hear the doctor coming before he has reached the spot of our next engagement. He is mildly out of breath and keeps looking around, all the acts of a man with something to lose. Perfect.

Turning away from my dear comrade, I lift my hat for a moment, smiling beckoningly at him. "John."

He stumbles forward, his very being giving away his apprehension and he wanders through lamplight and back into shade once more. "I...I wish to be of service. A living arrangement in re-order," He pauses, looking over his shoulder once more. "The waters are rising."

A grin splits my face and I remove my hat with a bit of bravado before gesturing for Lawrence to bring up his cab. "Excellent, my dear doctor, excellent."

The hooves clomp across the wet stones and I can feel it. Soon we shall dispatch those dark ones back to the beds of their ancient days. Our process shall be simple, but the doctor and I shall do what was set forth for us.

It is elementary, I tell you, an act of being once more.

And that is where I must depart. The tides are turning and we are pushing them back in once more.

  
   
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